Sin
by anche
Summary: Victory can be unbearable


"Curiosity is not a sin."

Funny, he certainly feels like he is in Hell.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry, but..."

Anymore it seems those words are always with him. They call to him just outside his dreams. It seems a thousand times he has returned to this conversation, to Dumbledore's tired form, to the youthful pride and doubt in himself. He knows he will return here a thousand more.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry, but we should exercise caution with our curiosity."

Caution, yes, one should always exercise caution.

---

"Wake up. Wake up, Harry, Wake UP! It's happening. Oh Get Up!"

"Hum..." It felt as if he was surfacing form a thousand year deep dream. He just couldn't make the feeling come back into his limbs.

"Harry, NOW! GET UP!"

"Yeah... sorry. I'm awake. What's happening?" With out his glasses Hermione was just a pale blur, hallowed by a golden smudge. She barely looked human in the weak candle light.

"It's started. Hogwarts has fallen. Snape... we've got to go."

"Right." Energy and adrenalin flooded his form the instant his once professor and now rival's name was uttered. "Where's Ron?"

"He's already apparated. Ginny called him over the coins. I didn't know if they would still work... apparently they did. I guess the magic didn't need to be fed..."

"Hermione?"

Yeah, sorry. It is pretty bad. The Order is also alerted... Oh I wish we had a little more time. You don't think... I mean, we don't have the last horcruxes but surly... if Nagini..."

"It's alright. I am sure the Order will be able to get them out. And McGonagall is not going to just lay the castle down with out a fight." Harry's last words were muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Ok?"

"Yeah, let's go."

----

Real battles are not how they seem in books or on TV. Real battles are always messier and so scattered. The movies never show the long periods of boredom made that much more torturous by anticipation, adrenalin, and dread. Who would see them if they did?

For Harry this battle was mud and confusion and the pricks of the bale of hay upon which he sat. They had worked out, almost certainly that Nagini was the last horcrux, just as Dumbledore had predicted, but doubt still remained. And no one could remember seeing Nagini. And no one could remember seeing Ginny. He tried to focus on the battle at hand, practicing counter curses and racking his brain for hiding places... but he kept coming back to it. No one had seen Nagini. No one had seen Ginny. Where was Ginny?

"Look out!"

Harry ducked as red sparks flew over his head, just missing his left ear. Now where had that cone from?

"Stupid children. The Dark Lord takes what the Dark Lord wants. And no Auror

nor carefully laid protection has yet been able to stop him, let alone half trained children. You did better when you had Dumbledore. Apparently he really was the only threat. And some threat he turned out to be," jeered the tall dark haired witch.

'Oh', thought Harry, 'that's where.'

"Feeling especially verbose today, aren't we Bella?" Shouted Hermione, while motioning to Harry to sneak around her. "Is Voldemort already so tired of your prattle that you feel you must share it with us?"

"Tired of me? The Dark Lord knows that I am his most loyal servant. He will never tire of those who are truly faithful to him!"

Harry couldn't suppress a smile as Hermione shouted the last words along with Bella.

"We have heard it all before, Bella darling. You need a new tune. Or perhaps 'me thinks the lady doth protest too much." There was unmistakable glee in Hermione's voice, something which constantly amazed Harry. Who would have guessed how well the overly studious witch took to the wildness of battle. It amazed and chilled him, what has become of all of them. What had he done to them? Hermione glorying in the battle, Ron becoming drawn and silent, Ginny rattling off seven ways to kill a wizard with out using an unforgivable in the same tone they used to rattle off Quidditch plays, none of them were the unstained. And he... he was just tired and angry and tired of being angry.

"You dare quote some filthy Muggle writer to me? Me? When I am finished with you, Mudblood, you will not remember how to quote your precious Hogwarts history, let alone Muggle drivel."

"Do you think we should let them continue... or is that enough?" whispered an all too familiar high cold voice in Harry's ear.

Startled, Harry reached out to grab a branch, anything to restore his balance. At the sound of Voldemort's voice the world around him seemed to become cheep, the colors too bright, the edges too sharp, as if a child had drawn them in with magic markers. Something fundamental felt wrong.

"What? No..."

"The ancient Greeks believed the seat of all emotions to be your bowels. It makes sense, albeit crude to our modern sensibilities. Tell me, Harry, what are your bowels telling you?"

"You are not supposed to be here... this isn't real!"

"Good boy. But then memory was the gift I promised you, was it not? No, I am just over that hill, unaware that Nagini is sneaking up on you, unaware of your boot crushing down on her head, unaware that the tide is turning in your favor. Ah... blissful in my lack of awareness. But tell me Harry, what else do you remember?"

"I... I... I remember blood, I remember light and screaming, I remember blood... I remember... no!"

"Close your eyes." Voldemort's voice had shrunk to a whisper, a whisper which penetrated the darkness inside Harry's eyelids and seemed to call the images fourth. He surrendered himself to the images and...

---

The snake blood had dried on his boots and he had no desire to remove the stains. He was walking across the Quidditch field where it had happened. Unbidden the sensation of wind in his hair and the roar of a Saturday Quidditch crowd consumed him. Somehow he didn't think they will ever play Quidditch on this spot again. Remembering the dead and the huddled groups of wounded, he didn't think they should.

"Oy, Harry, over here."

"Tonks. It is... it is good to see you." Suddenly Harry was bashful, stammering, everyone was the same but also different. He was different.

"Yeah, you too, you too. They are all ready... they have him in confinement in the Astronomy Tower. The dementor will not kiss him. I bet there is no happiness in his soul to attract them. I think we should give him a Muggle death. A common, non-magical Muggle death would be perfect for the likes of him." They both stared at the Astronomy Tower in silence.

Finally Harry spoke, "Have they set an execution date yet?"

"Nah, not yet. You know how it is. The Bureaucracy of the Ministry has taken over. And the press will be demanding that they be allowed to get his last interview and all that. Speaking of the press how did you get away?"

"It wasn't hard actually. No one seems to know quite what to say to me. So I just told them to leave. And they did. You would think I had threatened them or something."

"Well, you are the big hero now and well... how did you do it? I mean call fourth magic like that?"

"I don't know. It was weird. For a moment there, I felt such a connection. But, never mind. Do you think... I mean... can I see him?"

"No one is being allowed near him, but somehow I don't think anyone will stop you. I don't think anyone will stop you from doing anything you want for quite some time. This is your world now, Harry."

He winced, "Yeah, but what if I don't want it?"

"Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine. See you."

"Yeah, see you round Harry."

As he walked away Harry thought it was strange, she had been so careful not to touch him, not even brush against him. No one had touched him since he connected with Voldemort so violently. No one dared. He didn't blame them. He was not sure he wanted to touch himself, wanted to be inside his own skin.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the Astronomy Tower. No one stopped him, the three young wizards set up as guards just stared. The tower was filled with Aurors and people he had know for the past seven years of his life. No one spoke to him. No one stopped him. No one touched him.

He didn't need to ask where they were keeping Voldemort, he just knew, and seeing Mad Eye Moody sitting propped against a heavy oak door, he knew he must be right.

"I knew you would make it through." Harry said, hoping his tone sounded light, casual.

"I always have so far, though not unscathed. Thought the same could be said about you."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm going to talk to him."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Heavily and painfully the old warrior climbed to his feet. Slowly he reached out a hand but he stopped just short of Harry's shoulder. The worn and gnarled hand just hovered in the air for a moment while their eyes met. Mad Eye dropped his arm, only the wind from that movement touched Harry.

"Be careful, he is still cunning."

"I know."

----

He was standing with his back to Harry. The tears in his robes forcefully reminded Harry just how thin he was. How skeletal.

"Welcome Harry, I am afraid I can't offer you much." Turning he gave Harry a mocking bow, before gesturing to two chairs in the corner. Harry sat.

"I came... I... am not sure why I came. I had to."

"Yes, I'm sure." Voldemort answered before coming over to sit across from him. For several moments both were silent.

"They are afraid of me now. I can see it in their eyes. They are glad I did what I did, but now they just want me to go away. And I am afraid of myself. I spent so long, preparing for and focusing on defeating you that now, now I am a stranger to myself." Harry, staring resolutely at the wall, missed the gleam which entered the former Dark Lord's eyes.

"That was bound to happen, is that not part of the reason why you sent the pretty young red-headed witch away? You will have no place in that world now.

What would you ask of me Harry?"

"Tell me of my past... my parents, why did you target them? You know that most prophecies never come to fruition. What was deferent about this one, about them? Why did you create me?"

"Memory is a powerful and dangerous thing. Are you sure this is what you want? Memory?"

"Yes."

"Alright, but I will not tell you. I will show you. Here." From under his robes Voldemort drew out a thin sharp blade.

"How did you get that past..."

"It is a simple Muggle blade. The ministry was only looking for magical weapons." sneered Voldemort, for the first time looking like the Dark Lord Harry was used to.

"Give me your hand. No, no the left one. Do you know nothing of magic?"

Harry extended his hand, and tried not to jerk away as Voldemort's fingers enclosed around his wrist; the first touch he had felt in a week.

Voldemort was murmuring something under his breath which Harry could not quite make out. His whole presence seemed to be growing, becoming more majestic and beautiful. Harry had never realized how beautiful the Dark Lord was, how terrible and beautiful. His head began to swim.

"That's it Harry, just give in. Don't fight it. I am giving you a gift, Harry. I am giving you what your heart has most longed for... the gift of memory." Gently Voldemort stroked Harry's face before taking the knife and plunging it into his chest.

----

Harry was falling. He was floating. He was weightless. Slowly the air around him cleared and Harry saw a woman standing on the side of a hill. She was familiar and she was crying. To his horror Harry saw the tears were tinged red, she was crying blood.

She held up her hand, the movement, so graceful and elegant, drawing Harry's attention. She was holding back a cloud. It was made up of souls, of spirits. Spirits all screaming for his attention, screaming out warnings, screaming out curses, berating him. In the cloud he could pick out familiar faces; Dumbledore shaking his head and turning away, Hermione crying, Ron, his face red with anger, screaming curses upon Harry's birth, and Ginny, her face deathly pale and sad beyond tears. Ginny was simply mouthing 'I love you' over and over again.

At the sound of his cry, the bleeding woman opened her eyes. They were a deep emerald green, a mirror image of his own. Looking into them Harry knew. She was his mother, holding back the ghosts of all those who had died, who he had condemned to death. Voldemort had won. He had been strong enough to defeat the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever seen, but he had not been strong enough to live with the victory and had given it to his enemy.

Piercing his numbness and shock, Harry felt something squeezing his waist. He looked down and saw his lower body engulfed in snake coils. Turning his head he came face to face with Nagini, half her skull bloody pulp, crushed in by his own boot. Blinking her one eye, she opened her mouth as if to consume his head.

And Harry fell, faster and faster and faster until...

"Curiosity is not a sin."

Funny, he certainly feels like he is in Hell.

"Curiosity is not a sin, Harry, but we should exercise caution with our curiosity."


End file.
